


Giving out candy like it's Halloween

by nihilBliss



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Alternate Universe - College/University, Amateur Tattoos, Animal Play, Animal Traits, Blind Character, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Canon Gay Character, Coffee, Consensual, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cyberpunk, Domestic Fluff, Don't Try This At Home, Dorks in Love, Drug Dealer Elwurd, Drugs, Drugs Made Them Do It, Earth C (Homestuck), F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Furry, Gay, Gay Male Character, Healthy Kismesissitude, Hiking, Hiveswap: Friendsim, Hot Springs, Hypnosis, Inspired by Twitter, Jade Harley is a Furry, Journey, Karaoke, Lesbian Character, Lesbians With Subarus, M/M, Manga & Anime, Marijuana, Mention of alcohol, Mexico, Moving In Together, Multi, No Lesbians Die, Nonbinary Character, Open requests, Openbound, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Puella Magi Madoka Magica References, Recreational Drug Use, Request Meme, Skinny Dipping, Sleepy Cuddles, Space Drugs, Stargazing, Tattoos, Tickling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unsanitary Practices, alcohol mention, cowboy bebop references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-11-01 08:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 8,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17863736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilBliss/pseuds/nihilBliss
Summary: Short little shipfics written in response to requests on Twitter. Lightly edited.





	1. Decompression

**Author's Note:**

> For Twitter user @TardisNerdyNerd, who requested Callie/Jane/Roxy, here's a little domestic scene.

Jane’s CEO smile didn’t waver much, but she was good about dropping it when she got home from work. So when it persisted just a little too long, Roxy knew there was work to be done.

“Hey, Janey!” Roxy said, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. “What’s on your mind, babe? You’re looking all vexed and irked and consternated and stuff.”

Jane planted a quick, professional kiss on Roxy’s lips. Roxy frowned.

“You’re still stuck in public relations mode, Janey,” she said. Jane sighed.

“Sorry, hon,” she said. “Just drama with the board. They’re dragging their feet on this proposal, and none of them has the gumption to tell me what the problem is.”

Roxy planted a soft, lingering kiss on Jane’s cheek.

“Is it because you’re their literal god?” asked Roxy. Jane giggled, running a hand up and down Roxy’s back.

“Alright, maybe,” she said. “Can I try that kiss again?”

Roxy smiled broad as the horizon and nodded. This time, Jane got it right, lingering soft and patient on Roxy’s lips. After a moment yet all too soon, Roxy pulled away with an excited gasp.

“Oh! I know the perfect thing,” she announced. She took Jane’s hands and led her into the living room. There, Calliope sat on the couch, hunched over the sole free square foot of coffee table space left by at least a hundred hardcover books. Callie turned, made eye contact, and beamed at her wife and girlfriend.

“There you are!” she said, dropping her signature green sharpie on the table and rushing over to embrace the two.

“Hey Callie, Jane’s had kind of a rough day,” Roxy said, grinning mischievously. “You know what that means?”

Callie giggled and nodded. She began peppering Jane’s face with kisses, as Roxy did the same. Jane squeaked and held her girls tight to her, any remaining public facade falling quickly to their affectionate bombardment.

“You two are the best,” Jane managed when the siege concluded. She couldn’t help but smile — this time, that goofy, awkward smile that the public wasn’t allowed to see.

“Looks like you needed that,” Callie said. Jane nodded enthusiastically, pulling her loves tight to her.

“By the way, what’s with all the books?” Jane asked.

“Oh! The first editions of my new novel finally shipped,” Callie said. “And I… may have gotten carried away with how many copies I said I’d sign?”

Callie shrugged, a little sheepish.

“Wow, already?” Jane said. “Golly, that’s cool!”

Callie buried her face in her hands as she smiled.

“Wanna read a little to us, Callie?” Roxy asked. Callie grinned, nearly jumping out of her suit with excitement.

“I think that would be a lovely way to relax,” Jane concurred. At that, Callie all but dragged them over to the couch, where they piled on top of her. She pulled a book from the towering pile and flipped to the first page.

“For Roxy and Jane, the cotton candy that makes my world so sweet…”


	2. He makes me laugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Twitter user @Gallowscalib8or, who asked for Karezi, here's my attempt to "fix" their conversation at the end of Openbound part 2 and give Terezi a little more affection.

“SEE, YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO HAVE FUN AND BE LIKABLE BY JUST BEING YOURSELF. IT DOESN'T NEED TO BE PART OF SOME OVER THE TOP SCHTICK TO IMPRESS PEOPLE. WHEN SHE DOES THE RAD GIRL THING IT'S LIKE A DISGUISE, PROBABLY COVERING UP SOME PART OF HERSELF SHE'S UNHAPPY WITH,” Karkat ranted, less to Terezi than at her, shielded by her pulled-low dragon costume. “BUT WHEN YOU WITHDRAW AND COVER YOURSELF UP LIKE THAT, YOU'RE ACTUALLY JUST PREVENTING PEOPLE FROM SEEING SOMEONE WHO'S ALREADY BEAUTIFUL.”

Terezi said nothing, did nothing. Karkat opened his mouth to speak, then thought better and shut it. Instead, he reached a hand out and set it on her shoulder, a little awkward but no less sincere.

Then, Terezi pounced, wrapping her arms around Karkat’s thorax, knocking the wind from his lungs. She buried her head tight to his chest and clutched him tight, like she if she lost her grip, she’d fall until there was no more falling she could do. Karkat, face wrung tight with concern, simply wrapped his arms around her. And they stood like that, together, embracing, for a long moment.

“SHE’S A SHALLOW, TWO-DIMENSIONAL DIPSHIT, TEREZI,” Karkat said. “I DON’T WANT YOU TO FEEL BAD ABOUT YOURSELF ON HER ACCOUNT. THAT GOES FOR ANY OF THOSE SUPERFICIAL BULGEBITERS.”

Terezi snorted from under her hood.

“WHAT, BULGEBITERS? IS THAT FUNNY?”

She snorted again, now shaking.

“ALRIGHT, WHAT BULLFUCKERY ARE YOU GETTING UP TO UNDER THERE TEREZI?” Karkat’s expression softened. “HERE I AM TRYING TO BE A CARING FRIEND AND YOU’RE GIGGLING BECAUSE I’M FINDING NEW WAYS TO INSULT OUR ASSHOLE ANCESTORS. DOES CREATIVE SWEARING CHEER YOU UP? SHOULD I STOP BY THE FUCKING OBSCENITY MARKET AND PICK UP ALL THESE NEW LITTLE WORDS TO MIX INTO MY NEVERENDING DELUGE OF FUCKS AND SHITS AND ASSHOLES? DO YOU WANT TO HEAR IN DETAIL HOW THEIR SHAME GLOBES ARE DESICCATED AND READY TO FALL OFF BECAUSE OUR ANCESTORS ARE THE BIGGEST FUCKING JERKOFFS IN PARADOX SPACE?”

More snorting half-laughs. Karkat outright smiled.

“ALRIGHT, CALL ME MISTER LUSUS THE INTRUSIVE, BECAUSE I’M COMING IN.”

He ducked down and lifted the hood, draping it over the top of his own head. It wasn’t long before he started laughing too.


	3. Fancy rich asshole ablution trap stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For user Cryogenia, who's really cool on Twitter and who asked for Folykl/Marsti.

Folykl tugged at her sleeve and bit her lip as Marsti looked her over. Her skin itched under her shirt, and it pulled all over, like wool gone through a washing machine. She tried to only scratch herself a little bit.

“You really did bathe, huh?”

“No shit genius,” Folykl snapped. “My skin feels… really weird right now.”

But for all her vinegar, Folykl was really happy to be around Marsti with her goggles up. Her big, beautiful eyes radiated something calming, even welcoming. Folykl had grown to value that calm since they’d met. Hell, it was even worth bathing. Folykl flushed yellow as Marsti caught her staring at her face. Marsti smiled.

“How about your teeth?” she asked. “Did you brush them?”

“Why, wanna taste?” Folykl snarked.

“That was my plan, yes,” Marsti said. Folykl started as Marsti moved in to catch her lips in a soft, patient kiss. Folykl returned it in her own way, crude and graceless. She felt Marsti stifling a laugh, so she shoved her long, slimy tongue further into Marsti's mouth, licking whatever she could reach. Marsti couldn't help but laugh into the deliberately terrible kiss, soon pulling away to compose herself.

“You're such a little gremlin,” she said, smiling wide. Folykl shrugged, grinning that pointy grin of hers.

“Are you complaining?”

Marsti shook her head. She rested a hand against Folykl’s cheek, running her thumb along the curve of Folykl’s lips.

“Your skin’s pretty dry, you know,” Marsti said. “Do you use lotion after you bathe?”

“What the fuck… are you talking about?” Folykl asked. “I don’t own fancy… rich asshole... ablution trap stuff.”

“I have some. It should help with all that itching,” Marsti said. Then she smiled a mischievous smile. “I'll help you get the hard-to-reach spots.”

Folykl flushed, then grinned again. Yeah, maybe a bath now and again wouldn’t hurt.


	4. The keepers of life and death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Crescendi, who asked for Arasol, here's a little stargazing scene.

Back on Alternia, Sollux never gave a shit about stars. He had viruses to write, noobs to own, clusters to build and maintain, and enough moobeastshit of his own to corral — and that was before his friends decided his lane was the perfect place for their own fecal transport vehicles to have catastrophic rollover accidents. But now that he was blind and stargazing was even more pointless, he found himself on his back in the cool grass of Earth C on a surprisingly regular basis.

“What's ab0ve us now?” He asked.

“It's Eridan,” Aradia answered. She lay on his stomach, warm and reassuring, staring at the sky with a broad smile. “You think he'd be happy that he has his own constellation?”

Sollux stopped to think for a moment, but only a short moment.

“Fuck n0,” he said. “W0uldn't be en0ugh f0r his arr0gant ass.”

Aradia giggled.

“You're right. But hey, there's us!” She pointed skyward at the constellations Aradia and Sollux. Like most constellations, they were abstract to say the least, with Sollux all but bifurcated and surrounding Aradia, who looked as much like a rising phoenix as the sign she used to wear on Alternia.

“Tell me what they call us again?” Sollux asked, as if he could forget.

“They call us the keepers of life and death,” Aradia said. “You represent how life and death are just reflections of one another, that they can’t really be separated. That’s why your constellation’s kind of like a U-shape. Life and death look like opposites, but they’re really connected. And I represent the cycle of life and death, how things die, and then how the parts of those things get made into new life. Nothing’s ever really over. It just looks a little different.”

“Mmm,” Sollux said, running a hastily-trimmed claw across her scalp. “D0n’t st0p talking, AA. Y0ur v0ice is nice.”

She smiled and nestled herself against him. It felt good to be wanted.


	5. Revenge is best served using nine bars of pressure to push 200-degree Fahrenheit water through a seven- to nine-gram puck of perfectly ground coffee that's been compressed with approximately 40 pounds of force, all within 25 seconds of brew time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user @MikkytheHamster asked for Galora. They did not ask for ceaseless prattling about coffee. Fortunately, the latter came free with the former.

Galekh was good at gathering knowledge, but not so much at making it work for him. So when he decided to figure out how to make the perfect cup of coffee for Tagora, doing so without asking seemed like a fine challenge. Plus, it gave him an indispensable opportunity to spend a wipe or two fucking with his dear kismesis.

So he poured over every book he could find on the sourcing, making, and drinking of coffee. He developed a complex, intricate taxonomy of roasts, infusion methods, additions — everything. It was, he noted, a fairly thorough treatise on Alternian coffee culture, and he made a mental note to send it to an editor friend.

He decided to dive in at the deep end with espresso drinks. It started with a date to a chain coffee shop that was known for its pitch-dark roasts and over-extracted shots. All he did was hype it up a little as “a fantastic spot that’s received much praise and sells an estimated three million shots of espresso per day in the greater Thrashthrust metropolitan area alone.” Tagora did the rest, berating him for his lack of taste, dragging him home, tasting him through espresso after espresso to make his point.

Once Galekh was done abusing his load gaper and vibrating through the walls, he went shopping for the right espresso machine. He found a rather plush model that nonetheless offered him enough control to really dial his shots in.

While he practiced the caffeinated arts, Galekh sent Tagora text after text with pictures of badly made coffee drinks which he pulled from Goregle. Using Tagora’s ire as a gauge, Galekh figured out that he was very serious about a good macchiato. The rest was just a matter of practice.

So when the day finally came that he invited Tagora over for a cup of coffee, he only felt a little nervous. But his hands didn’t fail him, and Galekh prepared perhaps the finest macchiato he’d ever made. On top, he’d even crafted a little spade in the milk foam.

He set it before Tagora on the coffee table, quiet and polite, containing his excitement behind a practiced poker face. Tagora took a single sip and went wide-eyed. He set the cup down, stood up, and wrapped his arms around Galekh’s much larger frame, eyes still fixed on that cup of coffee.

“It’s perfect,” Tagora finally managed. “The roast is perfect. The shot is perfect. The foam is perfect. Everything in that cup… everything is perfect. How did you do it?”

“I don’t know what the fuss is,” Galekh said. “It’s just coffee.”


	6. High art lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user @therealdjpocky wanted Galekh to learn the joys of moisturewave and vape with Cirava. So here's some drugs and music fluff, because I am all about that business.

“I don’t get it,” Galekh said, arms crossed, as Cirava’s sound system thumped out a moisturewave classic with an Eastern Alternian title that translated roughly to Home Nucleonics/Bloated Goat 420. “It’s just an old pop hook slowed down and looped with audio from a commercial pitch-shifted on top.”

Cirava wrinkled their nose. They had to stop and remind themself — Galekh was a highblood, immersed in so-called “high art” as an aesthetic ideal. It was the reason he lived in that vine-bound mausoleum instead of somewhere you could heat and clean without having highblood money. This would take time.

“Maybe this will help,” Cirava said. They pulled a twelve-inch long centipede-like creature from a drawer and pressed its head, causing its eyes to glow a sickly shade of green. Placing its ass to their lips, they inhaled a thin, bitter vapor, which they then exhaled as a faint cloud. Galekh frowned, but Cirava extended it to him all the same.

“I’m not usually one for recreational intoxicants,” Galekh said. “Is it that crucial to understanding your music?”

“You know it lmao,” Cirava said, setting the insect-vape in Galekh’s hand. Galekh shrugged — if Cirava insisted this was the right way, he might as well give it a shot. He put the end of the bug in his mouth and inhaled, slowly, so he didn’t get too much. The vapor was decidedly warm, but it didn’t really burn and he could taste… well, he couldn’t really find anything he’d had before that he could compare it to. He passed the bug back to Cirava, who took another hit and slumped onto the couch next to Galekh.

“How ya feelin’?” they asked, stretching their arms along the back of the couch. Galekh shrugged, but something tingly and soporific had been creeping into the periphery of his attention. The world was softer than he remembered.

“Let me take that back,” he said. “This stuff hits pretty fast.”

“Don’t I know it lmao,” Cirava replied, restarting the track. This time, the slowed-down synthesizer melody felt less drawn out than drenched in atmosphere. It sent Galekh to the bottom of a warm ablution trap, where his mind floated, peaceful in a sea of sensations.

“Whoa,” he said, leaning back against Cirava’s arm.

“You’re fuckin feeling it, aren’t you?” Cirava gloated. Galekh nodded, eyes lidded heavily. Now, then, was the time for Cirava to kick their plan into action. 

“Wanna try something awesome?”

To this, Galekh nodded, happy to share in this little adventure with his suddenly very dear friend with that pretty, colorful eye. Psionic eyes were all so pretty, he thought to himself, as Cirava took a big hit from the bug. Now, they rested a hand on Galekh’s jaw, a gesture just a little too low to be pale even before Cirava’s thumb traced his lower lip. Cirava coaxed Galekh’s mouth open just a little, just enough, before leaning in for a kiss.

Oh. Well this might as well happen, Galekh thought, leaning into the unexpected affection. Then, Cirava exhaled that strange vapor right into Galekh’s bellow sacs, or at least, that’s how it felt. He took in all he could and held it for a moment before releasing. Things went yet fuzzier and warmer, especially now that Cirava’s arm had shifted down to rest on his shoulder. It made sense, just like the music, just like everything about this moment. And Galekh had only one thing to say.

“Wow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I HC'd Cirava's vape as tasting like shiso leaf, a flavor I've never been able to find a good comparison for.


	7. You’re gr8, and I think you’re gr8, and that’s all there is to say a8out that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a slight deviation from Twitter user @xelphaar's request for Johnvris, in that it's John/(Vriska), but I didn't want to write the sad scene I initially came up with in which post-retJohn Vriska comes into grown John's room while he's sleeping, wonders why it was so easy for him to be a hero when she constantly struggled with it, wishes he could see her like she saw him (genuinely heroic and beyond that someone whose moral calculus came out to an unambiguous positive), kisses him on the forehead, and leaves a blue d8 on his bedside table before taking off into the night.

It wasn’t awkward until Terezi spirited ghost Terezi away to show her the wonders of her beloved home espresso machine. Then, it was just John and (Vriska) sitting in the living room together, without even dessert as a distraction. (Vriska) crossed her ankles, rubbing the tops of her calf-length red Chucks together idly. John blew a loose strand of hair back into place. Then, finally, the tension became too great.

“You and Terezi seem happy,” (Vriska) said.

“Yeah, we are,” John said. “It’s been, uh, pretty nice to have someone else around.”

“I’m glad,” she said. Then she stared at her shoes again with those flat, white eyes.

“You and, uh, your Terezi, I guess? Well, you two seem happy too,” he said. It seemed the safe avenue. (Vriska) smiled.

“It’s the 8est,” she said. “Thanks.” Silence, again.

“John, can I say something? Something serious?” she said, now turning to face him full-on for… well, the first time that night, now that John thought about it.

“Go on,” he said, knowing full well that this was probably going to fall well outside the bounds of polite dinner conversation, for all the fucks he gave about that particular boundary.

“I never said I was sorry for 8eing such a shitty person when I met you in the dream8u88les,” she said. “I’m not okay with the person I used to 8e, 8ack then, and I’m sorry that I did what I did to you.”

John nodded at this decidedly un-Vriskerly revelation.

“It’s been a long time since that,” John said. “And we were all dumb teenagers. But thanks. And it’s good to see you, y’know, doing what you’re doing. Whatever that is. I guess I mean, you seem a lot happier than you did back then.”

“I am,” she said. “It’s hard, 8ut it’s really nice, too. And I’m glad you turned out great after all the hoof8eastshit I put you through.”

She stopped to push one of her long braids behind her ear, cheeks tinting a faint cerulean.

“You know, it’s always 8een really easy to talk to you a8out things, even when we were six-sweep-olds,” she said. Then she stopped, and she backpedaled. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to 8e weird or anything. You’re gr8, and I think you’re gr8, and that’s all there is to say a8out that.”

John nodded, a little bewildered. But he rolled with where he thought he conversation was going, and he took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, until (Vriska), once again, took initiative.

“I think the last thing I said to you for 8efore I died was asking you on a d8,” she said, taking her hand back. “And I think that 8oat’s pretty well sailed, given that it was like four sweeps ago, 8ut… do you ever think about that?”

John hunched forward. In truth, he didn’t very often. But that, and the homicide-related reasons for it, were matters for another time and, frankly, a different Vriska.

“Yeah, it was fun flirting with you when we were kids,” he said, all true. “Why do you bring that up?”

“I don’t have a lot of happy memories,” she said, “8ut that’s one of them. And I’m glad you’re still the same cute dork I had a crush on 8ack then.”

“Thanks,” John said, turning a little pinker than he was happy with. He was perhaps a little too used to girls he liked calling him a dork. “And I think this you is more like the you I thought knew when I was flirting with you than the you that you were. If that makes any sense at all.”

(Vriska) laughed and nodded.

“Can I ask you for something I have no right to ask you for?” she asked, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Uh, go on?” John said with a shrug.

“I never got to kiss you 8efore you… 8efore things happened. Could we…” She was too old to clam up like this and far too quadranted besides. But it was a new world, and new (Vriska) was allowed to try this vulnerability thing as much as she wanted, and only Terezi was higher than John on the list of people she wanted to try it with. He laughed, full-on laughed, crumpling a little bit as he did. (Vriska)’s thump biscuit sank.

“Ah, what the hell?” John finally managed, and he leaned in, and their lips met, and it wasn’t for long, and it was wonderful and soft and warm. A weight left (Vriska) then. She found herself sitting a little taller that night. Maybe she’d never really make even, but at least she had this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also this is compliant with my (smutty) JohnRezi fic, Shooting Star, if y'all have any interest.


	8. Not quite a sugar daddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user @zeeval_kamenh asked for pale EriKar, so here's Eridan and Karkat in a college AU. Warning: contains weed.

He’s not your sugar daddy, not in that sense. Sure, he’s paying your tuition. Sure, you share a bed when he asks you to. And sure, you’re basically living there at this point, what with the fact that he’s not charging you rent. And you won’t deny that your relationship with Eridan is intimate, but it’s not that kind of intimate.

Tonight’s pretty typical for your relationship, you think, as you bin the paper plates that bear the remnants of the Chinese takeout he ordered for dinner. Whoever he was planning to ask out today turned him down, the latest in a long line of poorly executed propositions that led inexorably to poorly received rejections. So he’s headed for the nest of pillows and blankets you’ve set up in the middle of his absentee parents’ home theater, where you’ve got that Atlantis flick he likes so much set up and ready to play. You join him as he’s examining the joint you rolled, lighting it over that ornate ashtray he stole from that resort in Morocco he never shuts up about.

You coil yourself around him, even though he’s taller than you, because that’s how he likes it. He’s talking about how much pressure he’s under to find a wife so he can secure his inheritance and grow into the ruthless investor he thinks he’s supposed to be. You don’t know why he cares about that so much when it clearly makes him miserable. He passes you the joint, and you take your hits before returning it.

“YOU KNOW IF YOU ACTED LIKE YOU ACT AROUND ME YOU’D PROBABLY HAVE AN EASIER TIME WITH THIS,” you say.

“Yeah but I trust you, Kar,” he says. “You’re not gonna try and fuck me over for my money.”

“AND YOU THINK WALKING AROUND WITH A FUCKLOAD OF GOLD RINGS AND AN EXPENSIVE SCARF WHILE ACTING LIKE A DOUCHE IS GOING TO ATTRACT WOMEN WHO WANT YOU FOR YOU?” you ask as he’s taking a long drag. “ISN’T THAT BASICALLY THE EXACT FUCKING OPPOSITE OF WHAT YOU SHOULD BE DOING?”

“Maybe,” he says, passing the joint back. “It’s somethin I gotta figure out for myself, though. Anywway, that’s enough about me. Wwhat’s on your mind, Kar? Howw are classes goin?”

You blow the smoke toward the ceiling, and you scratch his scalp. He insists on sharing the spotlight with you when he’s uncomfortable talking about his feelings or the barrier between who he wants to be and who he needs to be. He does what he has to in order to feel right about things between the two of you. Money aside, Eridan cares about you, and, you guess, you care about him, too.


	9. Giving your boyfriend a stick-and-poke tattoo is kind of a shitty date but it's nothing if not on-brand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user @manytrash asked for JakeDirk or DirkJake or whichever order one prefers. I've loved the idea that, in one of his more dumbassed moments, Dirk thought giving Jake a tattoo would be a good early date. It's so appropriate for an edgy teenager who's isolated with his first boyfriend.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't give or get an amateur tattoo. Go to a professional who works in a studio and uses a tattoo machine. Even beyond sanitation stuff, getting the depth of the ink right, producing clean lines and gradients, and providing proper aftercare all matter, and they're part of what you pay for if you go pro. Shit's permanent, and it's worth taking the time and money to do it right.

“Golly, are you sure this is safe?” Jake asked.

“I promise, it is,” Dirk said. “Everything’s fresh out of the alchemiter, and it’s the same equipment I used on myself. I wouldn’t do this on you if there was a chance I’d fuck it up. I’m not going to disfigure my boyfriend because I didn’t practice on like a hundred bananas and then myself.”

“Seems like sound enough reasoning,” Jake said. He relaxed on his familiar, beloved couch, and took a deep breath. “Go for it, Dirk. Mark me.”

Dirk’s poker face held, and he managed to disguise his gulping and his blushing. Instead, he considered the transfer once more, closer than he really had to, as he wiped Jake’s arm down with Vaseline. Steeling his nerves, he dipped the sewing needle into the black ink, and he made the first puncture.

Jake sucked air through his teeth. It hurt a little, but not much; the surprise got him more than anything. And, well, maybe he’d been holding his breath a little. But it wasn’t like he’d ever gotten a tattoo before. It wasn’t like he was nervous.

“Hey, Dirk, old chap? Fancy holding your beau’s hand?” he asked. Dirk looked up, caught Jake’s gaze. He saw the waver, the silent pleading. So he clasped Jake’s hand in his own, and he kept poking.

The first pass didn’t take long, and by then, Jake found he didn’t mind the pain so much. It was there, but it was distant, a background noise. And for Jake, that meant the foreground was all Dirk: that way he nibbled his lower lip when he laser-focused on something, the unblinking diligence, the stoic calm. Jake couldn’t help but smile. He loved seeing Dirk happy. Well, liked. Liked seeing Dirk happy, quite a lot. Maybe not that other L-word just yet. They’d only been together for a week, after all, and a gentleman ought not be premature with declaring his affections, no matter how inseparable he and his partner became.

“Alright, that should be it,” Dirk said, snapping Jake out of his reveries. He wiped Jake’s arm down with something cool, and he held up a mirror. Jake’s arm now bore a perfect depiction of Sweet Bro — or as perfectly as one could render jpeg artifacts in tattoo ink, at least.

“I love it,” he said. Dirk froze. Then, so did Jake. Ah, that blasted L-word slipped out. Damn.

“That’s fucking awesome and I’m glad to hear it,” Dirk said. “Radical as could possibly be conceived.”

He smeared a little ointment onto Jake’s arm, then taped a layer of saran wrap over it. 

“We can’t go too headlong into the adventuring for at least a week or two,” he said. “You’re going to need to wash this a few times a day, plus refresh the ointment.”

“Well, bally good thing I’ve got a fantastic boyfriend to help me remember all those things, eh?”

Jake’s smile could melt glaciers, Dirk thought. He squeezed Jake’s hand, and, just a little, he smiled.


	10. Fishbones, or, there's a conversation about privilege and paternalistic behavior to be had but first we have a few stereotypes to conform to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for LumenInFusco who writes awesome (and pretty gay) fanfics on here under that name. She asked for more fishbones content, namely in a College AU, and I was happy to provide.

“You call this a cottage?” Aradia said, walking around the inside of her new accommodations. “I'm pretty sure we packed three into less space than this when we were growing up.”

“O)(, stop, love,” Feferi said, setting a fruit carton full of Aradia's possessions against the wall.

“I'm serious,” Aradia said. “We definitely didn't have a kitchen this big.”

Feferi suddenly found the corner of the room captivating.

“I don't mean to make you feel weird,” she said. “I'm glad I get to s)(are w)(at I )(ave wit)( you t)(oug)(.” 

Aradia smiled and wrapped her sheepish matesprit in a warm embrace. Feferi sunk into the embrace, warm as ever and twice as comforting. This was a hug she would do anything to preserve, a kindness and open embrace she wish the world could feel.

“So water you going to do for your social sciences credit?” Feferi asked.

“I have an idea for an independent study I'm going to pitch to the anthropology department,” Aradia said, walking back to Feferi's loaded Subaru. “If I can get Paint to agree to supervise, I won't have to deal with fucking Scratch until my thesis presentation.”

“Good. )(e's a prick,” Feferi said, pulling one end of Aradia's desk out of her car. “I can't believe )(e kicked you out of )(is class. W)(at t)(e s)(ell was )(is justification for t)(at?”

“Chronic disruption,” Aradia said, rolling her eyes and guiding the other end of the desk free. “Not my fault he's never listened to a woman before.”

“)(is poor wife,” Feferi lamented. Aradia laughed that bright, infectious laugh of hers, the one she had only returned to her repertoire since coming to college. The one Feferi remembered from when they were kids, when their friends teased them about being in love. The one that went away for a long time, until Aradia was free to be herself again.

“That should be it,” Aradia said, setting the desk down and wiping her brow. “Thanks a bunch, babe.”

Feferi wrapped her arms around Aradia from behind, holding her close.

“You're so strong, Dia,” she said. “I love you so muc)(.”

Aradia blushed and wrapped her fingers around Feferi's hand, melting into the gesture.

“Love you too,” she said. They stayed like that for a long time. They could have stayed like that forever.


	11. Living in a van down by the river

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user @ScottyJ_Dog asked for a Folykl/Kuprum cuddle puddle, and I 'm more than happy to provide. Here's our two favorite gross, greasy nerds cuddling in a van.

Kuprum opened the back door of the van he and Folykl shared, a moderately sized cluster of snacks levitating behind him.

“Eyeless asshole didn’t lock the door of the van,” he said. “Don’t act like you have a lusus to watch out for you. It sure as fuck isn’t me.”

He shut the door behind him and piled the snacks on the dashboard, blocking out the ever-lovely view of the junkyard that passed for their neighborhood. Folykl sat in a corner, curled up under a blanket and watching something on a husktop set up opposite her.

“Ugh, you took… forever, asshole,” Folykl said. She lifted the blanket and motioned for Kuprum to join her. “Get under here… I need you to… give me… a charge.”

“Fuck off, parasite,” he said, setting his backpack down. He crawled under the blanket and nuzzled Folykl’s chest. “Don’t know why I let you suck me off anyway.”

“Remind me again… who’s the one stealing… Highbloods’ credit info… so we can afford… to eat?” she said, pulling him close and placing her lips to his forehead.

“Fuck your highblood money,” Kuprum said, discharging energy into her. “What were you watching?”

“Some superhero movie… I don’t fucking know,” she said. “Pass me some cookies.”

A box of mint-flavored grub patties floated out of one of the bags, landing right next to Folykl. She tore open the package and stuffed one into her mouth, then another. Then, she sighed, long and weary. The van got cold, some nights. It was nice to have a little extra warmth.

“Hogging the cookies,” Kuprum said. “Worst fuckin’ moirail ever.”

“Shove it... up your chute,” she said, handing the box over. As Kuprum stuffed a few into his mouth, Folykl ran her claws through his greasy, matted hair. He chittered a little and wriggled further into her embrace, spilling cookie crumbs all over her shirt.

“Touch hunger’s bad… tonight Kup?” Folykl asked before pressing her lips to his forehead and sucking once more. Kuprum nodded and set the cookies aside, wrapping his arms around her torso. She pulled him in as close as she could, burying her nose in his hair.

“Thanks, Fol,” he said.

“Any time, nerd.”


	12. Madoka Kaname is a legitimate troll name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user @b_ung_il asked for Azdaja and Tegiri pitch-cuddling and arguing over anime. This is... sorta that? They're not really arguing much, but there's anime and pitch-cuddling and trolls being dorks at each other.

“I am /ess than fond of how formu/aic the magica/ gir/ genre gets,” you say, wary of your kismesis’ advantage over you and seeking defensive tactical contingistrats you might employ. This mustardblood is wily and powerful; if he attacks you and you’re not ready for it, you’re doomed. And with his head resting in your lap, your options are limited. You don’t know exactly what his body count is, but you’ve heard rumors. You can’t decide whether the prospect of seeing him in action excites or terrifies you more.

“|||Are you suggesting that I would squander my time with mediocrity?|||” Azdaja says. “|||You make me laugh, Kalbur.|||”

He’s projecting relaxation and ease. You know better than to trust it.

“I wi// not deny that you are versed in eastern A/ternian animation,” you say, “but I wi// withho/d my judgement unti/ I have digested what you intend to feed me.”

“|||Come now, Kalbur, we’re here to be entertained,|||” he tells you, arms reaching above his head. You can’t tell whether you should watch his hands for a sneak attack or commit to an assault on his exposed abdomen. You decide to wait for your next opening; if he counterattacks, you’re done for. Instead, you press play and start the show.

It’s called  Supernaturally Endowed Ingenue Madoka . The plot, as it unfolds, follows an alien attempting to make a bargain with a young burgundy-blooded troll, offering power in exchange for loyalty in a secret war.

“Why wou/d this creature be so fixated on a tro// of the /owest b/ood caste?” you ask. Azdaja looks up at you and frowns. Generally, you know better than to discuss the hemospectrum with him, as his power has made him forget his place. “You’re not foo/ish enough to share an animation that promotes /owb/oods overturning the natura/ order, are you? I wou/d prefer not to cu// you in the name of the empire.”

He tweaks your nose with his powers, a feat of delicate subtlety you have to appreciate, even as it makes you sneeze.

“|||Watch the show, Kalbur,|||” he says. “|||We’re only on the second episode.|||”

In his annoyance, he’s stretching his arms out again. You won’t miss this opportunity, not while he’s distracted. Your hands shoot for his stomach, claws outstretched and ready. He’s not expecting it, and you land solidly, fingers working as quickly as they can. You’ve driven the breath from him.

He’s gasping and laughing as you tickle the living shit out of him. He curls up like a nervous wiggler and falls off of the couch. Years of combat experience kick in, and he’s up in a flash, eyes glowing and hands ready to guard against any assault. His face is still a little yellow. And all you can do is smile.


	13. Never trust a webcam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user and Doom aspect evangelist @polypaistegiri asked for pitch SolKat, so I decided to do my first pesterlog-format fic. Woo.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering twinArmageddons [TA]

CG: YOU ARE FUCKING WITH ME.

CG: THAT'S THE ONLY POSSIBILITY. YOU DO NOT GIVE THIS MUCH OF A FUCK ABOUT A HOBBY I HAVEN’T PRACTICED SINCE ALTERNIA WAS A PLACE AND NOT A DISTANT AND INCREDIBLY SHITTY MEMORY.

TA: y0u wanted tw0 learn h0w tw0 c0de. n0w faiilure ii2n’t an 0ptii0n, and y0u’re runniing 0ut 0f tiime.

CG: FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU FIRST FOR HACKING MY HUSBAND’S WEBCAM. FUCK YOU SECOND FOR PUTTING ONE OF YOUR STUPID ~ATH VIRUSES ON MY COMPUTER WHICH I’D LIKE TO REMIND YOU WAS A WEDDING PRESENT FROM MY MOTHER-IN-LAW.

TA: ii 2tiill d0n’t kn0w what that mean2.

CG: I DON’T EITHER BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT YOU BIFURCATED-BULGE SHITHOUND. FUCK YOU THIRD AND FINALLY FOR THIS CONVOLUTED AND WILDLY OUT-OF-CHARACTER STUNT.

TA: karkat, all y0u have tw0 d0 ii2 2h0w me y0u kn0w what a whiile l00p ii2, and n0b0dy ha2 tw0 kn0w ab0ut y0ur mu2iic career.

CG: WE WERE DRUNK AND DAVE SAID IT WAS TRADITIONAL. BESIDES, I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY AND REPLICATE THE DULCET TONES OF THE HUMAN BAND CALLED JOURNEY.

TA: ii’m n0t 2tupiid en0ugh tw0 try. ii’m bu2y tryiing tw0 be a g00d kii2me2ii2 and pu2h y0u tw0 gr0w. ii2n’t that why y0u a2ked me 0ut?

CG: FUCK OFF, SOLLUX. I WILL PUT MY STRUTPOD FIRMLY AND DIRECTLY INTO YOUR WASTE CHUTE IF YOU DON’T CUT IT OUT WITH THIS STUPID GAME.

TA: d0n’t be 2uch a wiiggler, karkat. tell me h0w a whiile l00p w0rk2 and y0u’re free tw0 g0. 0r free tw0 g0 fuck y0ur2elf. whatever.

CG: ALRIGHT FINE!

CG: A WHILE LOOP CHECKS ON WHETHER OR NOT A THING IS STILL HAPPENING WITHIN PARAMETERS, AND IF IT IS, WHATEVER IS IN THE LOOP RUNS AGAIN. IF IT ISN’T THE LOOP ENDS AND THE CODE MOVES ON.

TA: g00d en0ugh. y0ur 2ecret ii2 2afe.

CG: COOL. GREAT. AWESOME. NOW IF YOU EVER TRY BULLSHIT GAMES LIKE THIS AGAIN, SO HELP ME I WILL FIGURE OUT WHETHER YOU’RE ALIVE OR DEAD AND MAKE YOU JUST DEAD. ALL THE WAY DEAD.

TA: hate y0u tw0, karkat.


	14. Muscle memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user @skyarchipelago asked for Jade/Dave cuteness. I have delivered.

Dave had the legs of a swordfighter: powerful, flexible, nimble, and primed for explosive force. But he had a weakness, as Jade was learning: he'd never taken up running or, really walking much. And now, seven miles into a nature hike, it showed.

“Jade did you use your stupid space powers to put new muscles in my legs? Because I am sore in places I didn't know I had right now and for the life of me I'm not sure how that's possible with all the goddamn squats I do,” he rambled.

Jade turned and laughed, reaping the benefits of a life lived on hills and tall staircases.

“We're almost there, silly!” she said. “Besides, isn't it beautiful up here?”

She paused and took in the view, giving Dave a moment to squat and rest. He scanned the vista, drinking it in. Aspens bore their Autumn finest gold and rust against the stark blue of the sky and the deep green of the conifers above. Dave whistled. He’d only really seen pictures of mountains and forests while living in Texas, and none of them looked like this.

“Goddamn,” he managed. “Okay, yeah, it’s fucking incredibly beautiful up here. So pretty you have no goddamn idea. Like they should take this and paint it on the side of some art museum so you don’t even have to go inside to get a big dose of beautiful in your day.”

He had, by this point, stopped looking at the mountainside and begun staring directly at Jade. She picked up on his subtexed and went pink, smiling.

“Dork,” she said. “It’s just around the bend. I’ll race you!”

She took off like a shot up the trail. Dave smirked and flash-stepped to a running gait, closing on her.

Soon, Jade peeled off the trail, looking behind to make sure Dave was close, eyes bright, smile sunny, and fuck she was pretty. Next thing he knew, she was standing by the edge of a big, lazy creek, right where it met a stream of steaming hot water that gushed out of a hillside.

“Ta-da!” she said. “It’s a hot spring! I found it a few weeks ago, and I’ve been dying to bring you here. C’mon, let’s get in!”

She pulled her shirt over her head, and Dave wrung his hands.

“Uh, you didn’t tell me to bring a swimsuit, Jade,” he said.

“Oh, it’s fine!” she said. “I didn’t bring one either.”

“Oh,” Dave said. “Oh.  _ Oh. Oh! OH! _ ” The words took a moment to sink in sometimes, but when they did, he hesitated no further. Jade, he thought, really was some kind of brilliant.


	15. Davepetasprite^2 is a joy and a blessing on this sin planet and Jade Harley deserves nothing but love and agency in this new and exciting world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitterite @CalumTraveler wanted Javepeta cuteness, and Javepeta cuteness they have received.

Davepetasprite^2 [TC] began pestering GardenGnostic [GG]

TC: B33 < *lurks up behind you and blows your ear all hella predatory* boo! 

GG: Aah! *jumps in surprise. Turns to face you and ear won’t stop flicking* you scared me! :O

TC: B33 < *hugs you* hi jade! how the fuck are mew?

GG: *kisses your nose* :D great! even better now that I get to talk to you! <3

TC: B33 < <3

TC: B33 < could mew open your window for meow?

 

Jade turned away from her laptop and looked out the window. There, midair, flew Davepeta, upside-down. They waved and smiled, hair somehow perfectly in place. Jade lit up with delight, all but diving out of the window as she pushed it open. Davepeta took her in their arms, and they pirouetted through the air.

“Ahhh, it’s so great to see you!” said Jade. She covered Davepeta’s face with little kisses.

“So hella incredible to see mew too!” Davepeta said, kissing on the lips between each word. This was how most of their dates went: effervescent mid-air tumbling and public displays of affection. Then came the inevitable game of chase their animal sides demanded. One streaked through the air after the other, following through all manner of rolls and loops and hairpin turns. Sometimes Davepeta’s Nepeta side missed hunting, and sometimes Jade’s canine side wanted to chase, and they’d trade roles in turn. In time, one would spot a particularly nice-looking meadow or hillside and make a landing, sweating and panting. The other would join, and they would kiss and roll about.

Today, it was Davepeta’s turn to tap out, and they took to a pasture on a hillside. Cotton-white clouds painted the distant city gray with rain. But on the hill, they watched the storm crawl westward, and they held hands.

“So what did you have in store for me today?” Jade asked.

“Well, I was thinking we could fly somewhere warm and have a picnic,” Davepeta said. “Really warm, like tropical, mew know?”

“Ooh, I miss tropical weather!” Jade said.

“I remempurr all those times mew told Dave about how beautiful the island was when mew were growing up. But we have to make a pitstop,” Davepeta said, rolling onto Jade’s chest and resting their head on their laced fingers.

“Sure,” Jade said, scritching their scalp. “What do we need?”

“I may or may not have absolutely definitely left the picnic basket at home,” Davepeta said, purring. “Wanna race?”

“Sure,” Jade said, “but let’s stay here for a little bit first.”

She wrapped her arms around them and kissed their forehead. Davepeta said nothing, electing to nuzzle Jade’s face and bury themself in her embrace.


	16. In six weeks I'll be out of fuel and desperate again, but at least I won't be alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitterite @eva00goki asked for cyberpunk DirkJohn. I've been watching Cowboy Bebop again of late. Thus, bounty hunter John Egbert chats with his boyfriend/handler, Dirk Strider.

The ship was a mid-sized craft that could have been mistaken for a small freighter were one unfamiliar with rare Chinese military craft. John found it decommissioned somewhere in the Atlantic sprawl half a decade ago and, with a little help and a few iffy loans he'd long since paid off, got it back in fighting shape. He'd brought in more bounties than he bothered to count since then, though his handler-slash-boyfriend-slash-occasional-mechanic at the ICC could call the number up in the blink of an eye.

“Repeat, Egbert-413, please confirm that the channel is secure,” came the voice over the tinny speaker.

Speak of the devil…

“Geez, Dirk, you know it's me,” John said. All the same, he punched a few buttons on his console. Couldn't have some mobster or whatever tracking their comms.

“Encryption confirmed,” Dirk said. “Welcome back to the México DF branch office, John. Is your bounty all trussed up and ready for roasting?”

“You know it, babe!” John said, grinning. “When does your shift end?”

“That depends. Is your offer to join you in your bounty hunting adventures and fly the smoggy skies of our bullshit planet still open?”

“Uh, duh,” he said. “I barely get to see you.”

“Message received. Standby for further instructions,” Dirk said, and the line went silent. John raised an eyebrow. Nothing happened for a minute, then two, then five.

“Dirk? You there?” John asked. The line remained silent. John tapped a few buttons, but the screen confirmed they were still connected and still secure.

Then came static over the line, just for a moment.

“Dirk here,” came the familiar voice. “Are you still there, John?”

“Yep! What was that about?” John asked.

“Oh, I quit my job,” Dirk said, with all the emotion he’d use for use to describe a restroom break. “Can you meet me at that mescaleria near the Condesa district in old town in half an hour?”

John became as a fish, opening and closing his mouth as if to push nonexistent water through nonexistent gills.

“Uh, yeah, I… Holy shit, Dirk, are you serious?”

“You fucking know it, baby,” he said. “I am all manner of serious about joining you on that ship and taking our relationship to the next level. Besides, my bounty license showed up in the mail last week.”

“Oh! That’s… Wow! I guess I’ll finish up the prisoner transfer and we can celebrate?”

“Good plan,” Dirk said. “I love you!”

Then, once more, the comms went silent, and John slumped into his seat. 

Holy shit. 

This was happening.

The giddiness started in his right foot, which tapped the floor. It spread up through the whole of his body from there, until he couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. He screamed.

This was happening!


	17. I am the skin that keeps blood from the air and you are the muscles that move me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user @bolchixgang is the initiator of the Boldir/Chixie ship, and I volunteered this one for their BolChix week.

It wasn’t always easy to pull strings and skulk about and operate in darkness the way she had to, but when she had a reason, Boldir could keep it up for a long, long time. She had a good reason to risk blackmailing the cerulean-blooded troll who owned the venue. To pay that information specialist to derail a delivery drone. Even to steal that scuttlebuggy key and send that band’s equipment careening off the edge of a bridge. 

But now, sitting on the catwalks of one of the more prestigious music clubs in Outglut, it was all worthwhile. Sure, Boldir could be in the audience with her moirail’s new converts, who crowded the stage and cheered below. She could be stage-side, too, watching from behind a curtain, catching Chixie’s eye every now and again, and seeing her smile that soft, gorgeous smile. But she preferred this, frankly. It suited her.

Besides, this way, she removed herself from the equation. Chixie couldn’t get distracted by her; she could focus on the audience and the performance. And Boldir could watch Chixie in her element, shining like the moon.

* * *

Chixie could hardly breathe as she opened the door of the green room, and there, inside, was the person she wanted most. Boldir turned and smiled as she came through the door, and Chixie lept into her tight embrace. Boldir lifted her and spun her in a circle, laughing.

“You did so great!” she said, setting Chixie down.

“Do you really think so?” Chixie asked. “I didn’t see you in the audience, so I got a little nervous, but I think they liked me.”

Boldir nodded.

“They loved you,” she said. “I told you there was a good reason you were asked to open tonight.”

Chixie flushed deep brown as Boldir kissed her on the cheek.

“You were absolutely right,” she said. “At first I thought it was a prank or something, but… that really just happened, didn’t it?”

Boldir nodded, then kissed her again, then again and again. To see Chixie like this, happy and successful, she would move mountains, and she would find only joy in the task.


	18. if you’ve been stalking me for tips on scoring free drugs, you’re shithive maggots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter user @malleksadalov asked for Lanque/Mallek. They have received Lanque/Mallek now. I hope they and you enjoy this Lanque/Mallek content.

“Discount for friends?”

Lanque set an elbow on Elwurd’s table and leaned into the gesture, liquid in his grace. It was a posture he’d used to set many a thump biscuit fluttering flushed, a perfect compromise between powerful and slinky. And Elwurd was having none of it.

“that's cute, but i don't see the sucker you're trying to paiL,” she said, arms crossed and expression humorless. “cough it up and i'LL spare you the asshoLe tax.”

Lanque sighed, pulling a wad of cash from his breast pocket and dropping it on the table. Elwurd smiled as she said up the bills and thumbed through them.

“exact change, huh?” She stuffed the money into her jacket pocket. Then, a light descended from her ceiling and flashed red as a buzzer screamed. Lanque was halfway to the window when a heavily pierced cerulean guy walked into the block.

“oh shit, what's up sLitherbeast!” Elwurd shouted, bumping fists with the unexpected intruder.

“not much!” he shouted back. “like the security system so far?”

“it's a Little Loud!” She answered as she fumbled with her palmhusk. Finally, the noise abated and the light retracted. Lanque would have been relieved were he not fixed on the stranger's face. His features were sharp, somewhat like Lanque's own, but there was a roundness to his jaw that made him cute. Unbearably cute, if Lanque was honest with himself.

“so you wanna hook a guy up?”

“i got you, MaLLek,” Elwurd said, passing him a little bag of troll weed with a handshake. “on the house.”

“fuck yeah,” he said. “gotta run; text me when you wanna chill?”

Elwurd gave him a thumbs up, and Mallek turned to leave. At the last moment, he turned, locked eyes with Lanque, and winked. And with that, he was gone. 

Lanque's thump biscuit beat a loud rhythm in his chest. Cute, and he got free drugs? Oh, Lanque simply HAD to introduce himself.

* * *

Mallek glanced in the window. Yup, that tall jade from Elwurd's kept mincing his way through the crowd. What a clumsy tail. Mallek sighed; he had more important things to do than play with a weird stalker, no matter how dead sexy he might be.

He ducked behind a large group of yammering higbloods and slipped into an alleyway, watching and waiting. His hand darted out and caught a black coat, and he slammed its wearer against the wall.

“you're following me,” he demanded. “start talking or you're culled.”

Lanque rubbed the back of his head where it had hit.

“Fuck you,” he said, groaning. “Wanted to knoW hoW the hell you finessed ElWurd to giVe you free drugs?”

Mallek rolled his eyes.

“if you’ve been stalking me for tips on scoring free drugs, you’re shithive maggots,” he said. “she = paying me for work done; ever heard of playful banter? or do jades not know what friends are?”

Lanque clicked his tongue.

“I haVen’t figured out hoW to crack her shell,” he said, silky as he could manage, nearly purring. “GiVe us a hint?”

“fuck off and leave me to my weed,” he said. “i don’t care how hot you are;” Then, his brain caught up to his mouth, and his cheeks went bright blue, and he stared like an antlered hoofbeast caught in the high-beams of an oncoming scuttlebuggy.

“Oh?” Lanque said, returned confidence turning his whole persona sultry. He ran his tongue across one long fang, lips open in a half-smile. “Well, maybe We could continue this conversation elsewhere?”

Mallek gulped.


	19. The depth of her eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a shocking turn of events, Tyzias hasn't been sleeping enough, so it's up to her moirail, Remele, to use her hypnotic eyes to fix that. Request by Twitter user @RemeleNamaaq.

“I really appreciate youre makinge timee to have mee overe,” said Remele, setting her bag down in a corner of her moirail’s apartment. “I know howe busy you’vee been.”

Tyzias waved her hand dismissively.

“stels is gonna turn dinner into a mmmmeeting,” she said. “i had to fit our pale timmmme in sommmmewwwwhere.”

Remele slipped between her arms and wrapped her in a warm hug, which Tyzias returned.

“I’m note just saying thate,” said Remele. “Stelsa tolde me howe overwhelmed you get around examse. I wish there were some waye I could helpe youe reste.”

Tyzias let out a wry laugh and traced Remele’s exposed shoulder with a finger.

“wwwwhat are you gonna do, hypnotize mmmme?”

Remele shrugged, nuzzling Tyzias’ chest.

“That’se certainlye an optione,” she said. “Shalle wee hite thee pile ande givee ite oure beste try?”

Tyzias blinked, taking a moment to find her words. As she did, Remele giggled, pulled back, planted a kiss on her cheek.

“c’mmmmon, Remmmmy, i don’t wwwwant to just conk out on you like a jerk,” she said.

“Moirails aree supposede toe keepe eache other in check,” Remele said. “You’ree note dangerous, so wouldne’t ite bee better for me toe keepe youe upe and functioning?”

Tyzias could argue the point, but not without giving away dangerous secrets. Sighing, she rested her forehead against Remele’s.

“fuck it,” she said. “but wwwwake mmmme up wwwwhen Stels gets here.”

Remele smiled broad and bright as she let Tyzias lead them to her pile. They lay down face to face, hands on cheeks, and sighed, almost in unison. Alright, Tyzias admitted to herself, she was beat. She needed a nap, and besides, the pillows under her felt really welcoming.

“so howwww do you start?” Tyzias asked, yawning.

“Ohe, I already have,” Remele said, offhanded. “Just keepe looking into mye eyese.”

The four pupils in her left eye had begun orbiting each other. Tyzias hasn't really noticed that she'd been staring at them for a minute now, but their circular motion seemed so welcoming, so peaceful. It was always easy to get lost in Remele’s eyes, but this was something else. She didn’t notice the subtle, pulsing glow of Remele’s other eye. Its luminance matched the rhythm of Tyzias’ thump biscuit as Remele stroked her cheek. Tyzias felt herself melting into the gentle spiral of Remele’s left eye, quiet, peaceful. Her breathing slowed, and so did the pulsing in Remele’s right eye.

“There wee go, darling,” said Remele. “Cane youe hear mee?”

Tyzias nodded, saying nothing. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused.

“Goode,” said Remele. “Please give me your glassese.”

Tyzias complied, folding them and handing them over. Remele set them on a little table in the corner of the pile room, then lay back down, face to face with Tyzias once more. A little drool began to collect at the corner of her mouth; Remele took a paper napkin from her pocket and dabbed it away.

“Are you feelinge sleepy?” Remele asked.

Tyzias nodded, then yawned, stretching her arm wide.

“Then when I snape mye fingerse, I want you to go to sleepe, thene, deepe, likee youe’re going to sleepe fore a long time,” she said. “And you’re going to staye asleepe until you hear me snape my fingerse againe, okay?”

Tyzias nodded again, eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Everything felt far away, except for those endless eyes and that pleasant voice. Remele snapped her fingers, and everything went dark.

Tyzias’ eyes snapped shut, and any tension left in her body went slack. Remele waved a hand in front of her face, then tapped her forehead a few times. Tyzias didn’t react. She just lay there, eyes shut, breathing slowly and peacefully, sleeping face as sweet as Remele had imagined it to be.

She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around Tyzias, setting them forehead to forehead. She kissed Tyzias on the tip of her nose, then shut her own eyes.

“Sleep tighte.”


End file.
